Now it's a cat?

Swimming lessons are on Monday and Wednesday evening. Miraculously both girls are in lessons at the same time. Different levels, but same pool, same day, same time on the clock. The stars will probably never align like this again, so I'm trying to enjoy it.

So far Lauren has sobbed through her first two lessons. This is a mystery to me since she was jumping off the swim platform of our boat at 18 months. So it's not the water, but maybe the place. The pool is cavernous, bright and teeming with soggy kids, swim instructors who I'm sure are not paid nearly enough to herd cats all evening, the older crowd who are waiting for us to get done so they can start water aerobics, and the uber-clean smell of chlorine. It's a lot and I think it freaks her out.

But I don't like to be a hovering parent. So I sit on a storage locker nearby and wave cheerfully as my wee Lauren clings to the side of the pool and sobs. When it's her turn for one-on-one practice of whatever skill she changes her tone, and in an instant she is engaged, smiling and fluttering her little feet like an old hand. This is why I'm not falling for the tears. That, and this conversation:

Lauren (sobbing, gasping and red-faced): Mommy, (sob, gulp) I have to tell you sumpting.

She is in a pull-up position, her round grey eyes just peeping over the tile edge.

Me (finally giving in and crouching poolside): What is it honey?

Lauren (deep breath): I was sitting in my garden and I saw a purple cat. And a pink cat. And the purple cat was named Kania (caw-nee-uh) and the pink cat was named Kania. And there were two Kanias!

Me (trying, I mean it - really trying, not to laugh): Okay, well keep listening to your teacher. Only 10 more minutes of swimming.

The minute I settled back on to my fiberglass poolside post the sobbing started again.

Drama queen.